


Night Terrors

by Starofwinter



Series: Sex and Candy [5]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Loudmouth still has night terrors.  He knows he can't stay up without sleeping for this long, but it takes Rabble's intervention to get him there.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kristsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristsune/gifts).



> Rabble, Ruckus, and Mischief belong to [kristsune](www.kristsune.tumblr.com)

“You haven’t slept for days, have you?” Rabble asks, and it actually takes Loudmouth a few seconds to process the question and form an answer.  

“I’m okay, I just need to chill out for a little while.”  He tries to grin, but he knows how bad he looks - he tried to cover the dark circles, he really did, but they’re getting bad enough that the concealer Anomaly loaned him won’t work.  Anyway, it doesn’t cover the pallor of his skin, or the way he shakes, or how he has to take a minute when he stands up, just to make sure he doesn’t fall.  It hasn’t affected his dancing, at least.  

Rabble gives him the look he knows means he doesn’t believe that at all.  “They started again, didn’t they?” he asks, and Loudmouth looks away.  It’s answer enough.  “You could come to us, you know?”

“I didn’t want to worry you guys - I’m fine,” he says, and shakes his head.  It’s a bad idea, because the world spins lazily and he almost over-balances, which doesn’t really give the right impression.  When he comes back to himself, Rabble’s hand is on his arm, steadying him.  “Really.”

“Well you’re _worrying_ me right now, Lud’ika,” Rabble has that stubborn look on his face he gets sometimes, the same one he had when Loudmouth made that stupid joke about his family a couple of weeks ago and he’d dragged him out for hot chocolate and _talking_ , “Come on, give me your keys, we’ll go get your stuff and you can stay with us tonight.”  He thinks about arguing - he doesn’t want anybody to worry about him - but he finds himself handing over his keys and following Rabble out without another word.  The trip there is quiet; Loudmouth can’t remember anything they talk about by the time they reach the apartment, and he cringes a little when they walk in and he _knows_ Rabble is silently counting the number of empty energy drink cans laying around.  He’d meant to throw them away, and he knows it doesn’t look very good for him.  “How long have you been awake?”  His voice is very quiet and very worried, and Loudmouth feels a flash of guilt for making him sound that way.  It’s stupid, he knows, but he’s barely managing to react at all.  

He shuffles a little, looks around, tries to count how many days it’s been.  “Maybe a week?  I don’t really know,” he finally admits, and Rabble sighs his name before wrapping him up in a careful hug.  Loudmouth closes his eyes and rests his head on his shoulder.  He can feel fingers running through his hair, Rabble’s other hand tight on his shoulder to steady him.  He could probably fall asleep right here, but he’s being gently tugged to his room and Rabble sits him down on the bed while he packs a bag.  He thinks he zones out for a little, because he blinks and Rabble is guiding him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist to walk him out.

It’s like a switch flipped when he finally _admitted_ that he hasn’t been sleeping, and he can barely stay awake.  The ride to Rabble’s is another blur, and he can’t process what Ruckus and Mischief are asking him, even if he does recognize their worried looks.  He feels another flash of guilt - they really don’t need to worry about him - but it’s washed away by the _relief_ he feels when Rabble answers their questions and they let him drift a little.  He jumps when familiar-unfamiliar hands reach out for him, and it’s Ruckus who holds up his hands to calm him.  “It’s okay, vod’ika,” he says quietly, “Just me.  We’re going to get you to bed now, alright?”  Loudmouth nods in a daze and relaxes as they get him on the bed and pile in around him.  He’s too tired to be anxious anymore, too tired to feel guilty for soaking up their attention as he drifts to the sound of their murmured reassurances and conversation, and a hand stroking his hair.  

_“It’s been a week-”_

_“Why didn’t he-”_

_“-you know why-”_

_“He knows we care-”_

_“Of course he does-”_

_“Shh, let him sleep…”_

He buries his face in someone’s shoulder and lets himself _sleep_.


End file.
